The Phantom of Oz, Installment #2,
Plus a Dead Body in the Newsroom and an Audio Monster Story
Hello! Welcome to Installment #2 of my weekly serialization of The Phantom of Oz. If you missed the first installment, you can read it here.
We’ll start the book in a minute, but first, a Best Places to Hide the Body update for Halloween.
Or not. The criminals taunting the reporters at The Spokesman Review missed the “Hide” bit. Will the journalists find the perps?Almost certainly. Will this photo by my friend and visual journalist Colin Mulvaney provide clues that aid in said discovery? Of course. Will anyone ever eat lunch at that desk again? Only the new guy.
On to the book:
THE PHANTOM OF OZ (Ivy Meadows Mystery #5)
Read the previous installment, Chapter 1, A Series of Incidents so Curious and So Inexplicable, here.
Chapter 2
Into That Infernal Underground Maze
Around seven that evening, I stood in front of the security booth just inside the Grand Phoenician Theatre’s stage door. “And what do we have here?” said the big-bellied security guy from his seat in the glassed-in enclosure. “Aren’t you a little big for a munchkin?”
“Um, yeah.” I was a foot taller than everyone else in the unexpected line, and I shouted to be heard over the din of excited children’s voices.“I’m here to see Candy—Candace Moon.”
“Sign your name here.” The guard handed me a clipboard. “You can go right on in,” he added. “It’s just the little critters who need to sign up for a time slot. Auditions, you know.”
I didn’t know. The only way I knew that Candy’s show was The Wizard: A Space OZpera was because it was written on the marquee in big letters. I’d read about the show in Backstage. Sure, The Wizard of Oz in space sounded like a crazy idea, but the critics thought it worked, mostly due to the director. Arrestadt Giry was a genius, well known for making his unbelievably offbeat ideas work (like his musical version of The Godfather, complete with dancing horse head). He usually worked his magic behind the camera in La-La Land, but he liked to go back to the theater to keep himself grounded, according to the Backstage piece.
“This tour isn’t starting here, is it?” I asked while signing my name. “Why are they auditioning munchkins?”
“Munchkins-slash-flying monkeys,” said the guard. “The kids play both roles. The tour began awhile back in LA, from what I hear, but I guess a couple of the kids outgrew their contracts.”
Outgrew their contracts? I’d have to ask Candy about that.
“That Giry guy is even here.” It was unusual for directors to come back to a show once it was up and running. “Guess he likes to handle auditions himself. Plus,” the guy leaned so close I could smell the mint gum he was chewing, “that Babette woman is here too. Looking for her next big star. They got a ton more kids auditioning cause of that.”
“Babette from The It Girl? Babette Firmin?”
I felt a chill and a thrill simultaneously. I couldn’t stand The It Girl. The reality TV show promised to groom hopeful actresses to be the next big star, but it seemed mostly like a vehicle for Babette’s no-nonsense approach to the business of star-making (i.e., her ability to make grown women cry). I hated the show—and I would have given anything to be on it. Ah, the vagaries of show business. “But why would Babette be here looking for munchkins?” I asked the guard.
“Guess she’s gonna have a new show for kid actors: Itty Bitty Star. Get it? It Girl, Itty Bitty?”
I chuckled. He was working so hard for it.
“That’s why the kiddos are auditioning this late. Guess Babette’s a night owl.”
“But wait,” I said. “They’re having auditions? Candy said they were rehearsing.”
“That too,” said the security guard. “The Wizard show has to work in the guy who replaced the Scarecrow after that accident. They say the first actor’s gonna be all right, but...” He shook his head. “You think they woulda made that straw flameproof.”
“Candy,” I said into my phone as I walked down the hall, “I’m lost.” I swear I had gone the direction the guard had pointed, but these old theaters were like hives backstage. Instead of brightly lit dressing rooms, I passed by shadowy niches filled with sweating pipes and shelves full of tools and props, including an especially lifelike-looking severed head.
“What?” she said. “You’re breaking up.”
“What floor are the dressing rooms?” I said loudly. I reached out to touch the head. Its hair must have been hair-sprayed half to death, because it was crunchy and...alive? “Aah!” I screamed. “Cockroaches! Cockroaches on the head!”
“Aah!” Candy screamed back. “Cockroaches on your head?”
I shook my head violently, just to make sure nothing was on it, and backed up into a better lit section of the corridor. “Not my head, a prop severed head...Why is there a severed head in The Wizard of Oz in space? Are there even cockroaches in space?”
“Probably,” said Candy. “Stowaways. Like rats on ships. And there’s not a severed head in our show, though I did think about killing the guy who used to play the Scarecrow. Where are you?”
“I must have taken a wrong turn. The floors in this hall slope down. I must be somewhere in the bowels of the—”
The lights flickered. An icy hand touched my shoulder. I whipped around. No one there. Or was there? I swore I felt…A small figure steppedout of the darkness. A child. He held up something that glittered in the light. Scissors. With blood dripping from them. “Join us,” he whispered.
“Ivy?” Candy’s voice from my phone. “Are you okay?”
“Join us, Ivy,” said the hollow-eyed little boy. He ran past me, cackling, brushing against me as he went.
“What? What the hell is going on?” I reached out a hand toward the wall to steady myself, but…“Aah!” I yelled again. “Cockroaches!”
“On somebody’s head?” asked Candy.
“On the wall.” I backed away. A sickening crunch under my heel. “And on the floor.” The creatures skittered away. Probably to a new hiding place where they could run out and scare me again.
“Ivy, darlin’, they’re just big bugs.”
“No ‘just’ about it,” I mumbled.
“Think of ’em as June bugs.”
“I live in Arizona. I’ve never seen a June bug. If they’re anything like cockroaches, I’m not a fan. And there was some creepy kid.”
“Darlin,’ this theater is full of creepy kids right now. And even scarier stage mothers. Listen, skip the dressing rooms. Try to find your way to the stage. Once you’re there, there’s a door to the house stage right.” The house was the audience section of the theater. “We’re going to meet out there for notes in—”
Candy’s voice abruptly died. I looked at my phone. No signal. The lights flickered again. Electrical interference, maybe. That would explain why the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. And it could explain the cool air that swept through me: just an air conditioner kicking on. Nothing to be frigh—a wave of cockroaches skittered past me, as if on the run. I followed suit and propelled myself out of the dark passageway.
Watch for Installment #3 of The Phantom of Oz next Friday, November 7th!
In the meantime, here’s a monster story for your listening pleasure (don’t worry, it’s not too scary) -
I recently learned that my friend and fellow author Curtis C. Chen is also a voice actor, and narrated L. Chan’s strange and funny “Field Reports from the Department of Monster Resettlement” on Podcastle. You can listen or read the transcript here.
See you next week!